Chapter Text
Wanda had her door closed, the window drapes drawn tight to shield the sunlight from entering. Candles were lit one by one, forming a perfect circle, and even the light in her room dimmed beneath their soft glow.
This was one of her sessions — one of many she had learned from Agatha, along with a few lessons taken from Doctor Strange, each helping her understand and control more of her magical abilities. Especially to comfort the moments of her PTSD.
The tower was unusually quiet, giving her the rare chance to truly focus — to study herself.
She slowly lowered herself to the floor, sitting at the exact center of the candle circle. Her hands rested gently on her legs, index fingers pressed to her thumbs, eyes closed as she began to focus. The silence of the room guided her, grounding her.
She breathed in slowly, deeply — then exhaled, a long sigh escaping her lips.
The memories came anyway.
Her family. Her brother. Her mother and father — the explosion. Being buried alive beneath rubble, trapped with Pietro under Hydra’s cruelty. The Avengers as enemies. Ultron. Nearly losing Vision. Agatha.
It all came rushing in, wave after wave.
Her face tightened beneath closed eyes as the candle flames flickered violently, several nearly extinguishing as a sudden, heavy current of wind swept through the room. A red glow shimmered beneath her eyelids — her eyes threatening to turn the same crimson as her magic.
She clenched her jaw, struggling to maintain control.
Then another memory surfaced.
A baby. Hazel hair. Green eyes. Small and impossibly beautiful.
The child of the Black Widow and the Captain — once her enemies, yet creators of something so pure. She remembered seeing him after he was born…watching him grow…seeing how innocent he remained.
How strange it was that such a small being could teach her how to heal. How to let go. How to be human again.
The candles steadied.
Wanda’s expression softened, calm returning as her magic eased — though faint red still glowed beneath her eyelids.
This solitude was exactly what she needed.
Or so she thought.
Peter peeked through the cracked door, eyes wide with enchantment as he stared at his aunt floating within the glowing circle. He watched her for several long moments before quietly pushing the door open, careful not to let it creak.
Tiptoeing inside, he stopped at the edge of the candle circle. His tiny hands tucked behind his back, head tilted as he stared at her.
Then he lifted his arms, waving them up and down quickly. His eyes squeezed shut, tongue sticking out in concentration as he mimicked her. Small squealing grunts escaped him as he bounced in place, arms still flailing.
Wanda felt the presence instantly.
She hid a smile.
She shifted her focus — not inward, but toward the uninvited guest.
How rude of you to come in here and spy on me,” she said softly. “You are just as sneaky as your mom…and I should know. I once snuck up on her”
Peter giggled, covering his ears.
Her eyes slowly opened, glowing brighter as red sparks danced around her hands. Peter stared, delighted.
“Auntie’s pixie dust!” he chirped.
Wanda’s magic swirled, and as Peter waved his arms again — face scrunched tight in concentration — her power gently lifted him into the air.
Peter giggled louder, humming a tune from Peter Pan as he floated. With a soft motion, Wanda drew him into her arms, both of them levitating within the candle circle.
He gasped happily at the sight of his feet dangling above the floor. Smiling up at her, he reached out and gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, her dark hair flowing freely around them.
Oh…how the memories stirred.
Of Vision. Of Pietro. Of Peter.
In this cruel world, they gave her meaning she never knew she was searching for.
She brushed her fingers through his brown curls.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked gently.
“Wanted to play with you!”
She chuckled. “You are impossible to escape, you know that? Even when you were a baby.”
Peter giggled.
“I love playing with my uncles and aunties and Mommy and Daddy! Love my Avengers, Aunt Wanda! I love you!” he cooed, softly stroking her hair again.
She returned the gesture, tugging gently at his curls before grinning mischievously.
“Well,” she said, “since your Mommy and Daddy are out…how about we go to the kitchen and have a little date with cookies and ice cream?”
Peter clapped. “Cookies! Ice cream! Yay!”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone it was me. Let’s say it was Uncle Sam…or Bucky…or Clint. Deal?”
Peter giggled quietly and mimicked her, pressing his tiny finger to her lips. “Shh!”
Wanda lowered them gently to the floor, the candles dimming as if falling asleep. Together, they slipped from the room and into the kitchen. She set Peter on a chair while she gathered bowls, spoons, cookies, and ice cream.
He clapped softly, whispering, “Ice cream and cookies. Yay.”
She scooped ice cream into both bowls, then drizzled chocolate syrup over the top, whispering with a smirk, “Chocolate syrup on the creamy buffet?”
Peter giggled and nodded.
She opened the cookie package and sat beside him.
“Ice cream and cookies and chocolate syrup! Yay!” Peter whispered again.
Wanda sat down in the chair, and soon the kitchen fell into a comfortable silence as they immediately dove into their dairy treats. Peter hummed happily, his legs kicking beneath the table, while Wanda sat across from him as they quietly enjoyed their desserts.
She found herself staring at the little boy before her, her lips slowly curving into a wider smile as her eyes began to glimmer. His lime-green eyes — lighter than his mother’s — shone with life, so alive and human. Something she and her brother, and so many others around her, were not.
They could walk, talk, and feel like humans — but they weren’t. Not truly. Not with powers, not with pasts so haunted and cursed beyond normal lives.
Her gaze drifted back to him as she listened to his soft humming while he happily ate his ice cream and cookies, mirroring him as she enjoyed her own treat.
Oh, how beautiful he was. How small — and how quickly he was growing.
It felt like only yesterday that Natasha had given birth to him. The endless late-night cries, the constant fussing — all of it had faded into this little boy, growing and growing, with a future waiting for him to meet and embrace.
Back then, all they heard were his cries. Now, the price was a handful — but it all felt right. A victory. Steve and Natasha had survived, married, and created this little life.
She smiled to herself as she hummed, lifting a spoonful of ice cream and tasting the frosted chocolate flavor.
Peter hummed too, and when their eyes met, he giggled as she hummed back at him. He scooped another spoonful, sensing her gaze on him.
She rested her chin in her palm, smiling warmly. “Oh, you are so handsome,” she said.
Peter giggled.
“I remember when you were just a baby. You were so beautiful…and look at you now. You are still so beautiful and so pure,” she said, biting into a cookie. “I could almost squish you to death and never want to let go. Maybe eat you up” she made a growling noise.
Peter giggled again, bouncing in his chair. “Mommy said I am more handsome than Daddy and my uncles!”
“Oh, she was right,” Wanda agreed, holding her spoon as she smiled. “You are handsome like Vision — but you are way more handsome than Uncle Pietro and the others. I am sure you could make anyone fall for you in seconds.”
She smirked as he giggled. “You made me fall for you the second you were born, and you keep getting more handsome every day.”
Peter giggled and picked up a cookie, offering it to her. She paused, smiling softly before taking it.
Then he asked quietly, “Will you always think me and Uncle Vision handsome and still love me and Uncle Vision too?”
Wanda gasped dramatically, then dipped her spoon into the ice cream and gently dabbed it onto his nose. Peter squealed with laughter.
“Of course, Peter,” she said warmly. “I will always love Vision, and I will always love you. Both of you being here — with me — helps me become the person I want to be.”
Peter giggled, feeling the cold ice cream on his nose.
Laughing softly, Wanda grabbed a paper towel and moved to his side, gently wiping his nose and cheeks. “Hmm, you got something on your nose,” she murmured, cleaning him up as Peter squirmed and giggled.
She kissed his nose, and Peter nuzzled against her.
That was when they both noticed the cookie package was empty — except for one last cookie sitting inside, waiting.
They stared at it.
Then at each other.
Peter giggled as Wanda smirked.
***
The elevator doors opened, and Steve and Natasha stepped into the top floor of the tower. As they walked in, they noticed someone lying on the couch. At first, Steve thought it was Bucky.
Then he realized it wasn’t.
Wanda lay on the couch, arms wrapped around a sleeping Peter sprawled on her chest. His thumb rested in his mouth, his body completely relaxed. Cartoons played quietly on the television.
Steve and Natasha froze.
Natasha smirked and pulled out her phone. The camera flashed.
Wanda blinked awake, jolting slightly — then froze when she felt weight on her chest.
Steve waved. “Hiya, Wanda.”
Natasha grinned. “Looks like something is lying on you and won’t let go.”
Wanda glanced down at the sleeping child, then back at them. “Steve…Natasha…I think there is something really lying on me,” she said slowly. “I think it’s your son.”
She lowered her voice dramatically. “Nat, go get a giant spatula. Or Steve — get your shield. Be fast. And do not wake him.”
Natasha chuckled as Steve approached. “How did this happen?”
“I’m not sure,” Wanda said seriously. “I was practicing my powers, then this one came spying on me. He wanted to play. I tried to charm the little monster with ice cream and cookies. Then there was a last cookie.”
She paused. “There was a battle. It was fierce. I was pinned. Everything went black. And now I am being held hostage.”
Natasha laughed. “You two look adorable.”
“And he looks worn out,” Steve added.
“He never attacks when you’re home,” Wanda muttered. “Never when you’re home, Nat.”
“That’s true,” Steve smirked.
Natasha grinned and nodded. “Come on. Let’s put him to bed. Don’t wake him.”
“Don’t wake him?” Wanda whispered. “Are you kidding me? Watch this” She gently rocked, and Peter rocked with her, letting out a sleepy moan and clinging tighter.
“He has a death grip even in his sleep.”
Steve and Natasha smirked as Wanda carefully stood, holding Peter close. “This one runs nonstop like a racing motor,” she muttered. “And now he’s asleep and my life is spared. You missed everything.”
They quietly walked down the hall to Peter’s room. Wanda laid him in bed, and Peter yawned adorably, snuggling into the blankets.
Natasha kissed his forehead. Steve placed his teddy bear beside him.
The lights dimmed.
The door closed softly behind the sleeping little Avenger.